


The Phantom

by estriel



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Drama, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Psychological Drama, Psychology, Selfcest, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut, Smut, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 19:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18977095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estriel/pseuds/estriel
Summary: Yuzu stares. This can’t be real. He rubs at his face, not believing his eyes. The person looking back at him – well, the person ishim.AKAThe Crystal Fairy meets The Phantom.





	The Phantom

**Author's Note:**

> Yuzuru's duality is one of these things about him that fascinate me the most. It really was just a matter of time before this fic got written. Now the stars have aligned with the new iteration of Phantom of the Opera and the addition of Crystal Fairy to the family of Yuzu's programs. 
> 
> A big fat thank you to all of my enablers. You know who you are. <3
> 
> Please forgive any grammatical errors, typos or other hiccups - this is unbetaed and English is not my native language. I tried. :)

Satomi-san has outdone herself again, Yuzu concludes when he takes yet another look at the costume the courier had brought earlier that day. The fabric moves like liquid in his hands when he takes it off its hanger, smooth and silky. The soft hues of the dye flow from white to powder blue to feather gray.

He unzips the costume and pulls it on carefully, marveling at the way it hugs his torso, accentuates his waist. The crystals run like rivulets of melting ice across his front and back, and they shimmer like real diamonds when he turns this way and that in front of the mirror.

It is a dream, and Yuzu cannot wait to showcase it in front of an audience along with his new exhibition program. But that will have to wait, since Fantasy on Ice is still some time away.

Yuzu reaches behind his back to pull at the zipper and unpeel the skin-tight outfit from his body, when suddenly the lamp by his bedside flickers and dies, and his room plummets into darkness.

Yuzu curses, momentarily blind. It’s not pitch dark, because he never draws his curtains all the way, preferring to allow some light from Toronto’s streets to filter in instead. Still, he’s not a huge fan of darkness, not since the earthquake.

He waits for his eyes to adjust. Once he can see at least vague contours of furniture, he slowly walks to his bed, fumbling for the switch on the lamp. He finds it, clicks it – but the lamp refuses to go on; the light bulb must have died.

With another muttered curse, Yuzu goes to search for his phone on the bedside table, patting around with his hands. It’s not there, even though he could have sworn he’d left it in its usual spot.

He can feel his heart rate pick up. He’s not panicking, of course. He’s a grown up man, this is his home, and he knows he is safe, but the memories come unbidden and suddenly he’s back in Sendai in the aftermath of the quake. He thinks of the nights spent on the floor in the school that had been their emergency accommodation. The darkness had been oppressive, descending onto him from all directions as he lay awake feeling helpless and scared, listening to the quiet breathing and occasional sobs and whimpers from the rest of the survivors. Yuzu has battled the demons of those nights in countless therapy sessions since then, but they still come back to haunt him at times, especially at night.

He takes a steadying breath.

“Don’t be afraid, Yuzuru.”

The voice comes from behind him, chilling him to the bones. Yuzu whips around, heart pounding frantically. How could anyone – how the hell –

There is indeed a dark figure silhouetted against the weak reddish light coming in through the crack in the curtains.

“What –“ he yelps and stumbles backwards, not sure what to do, whether to run or scream for help.

“I said don’t be afraid,” the stranger repeats, a note of firm authority in his voice. The voice – why does it sound so uncannily familiar?

A sharp snap of fingers resounds through the darkness. The lamp comes back to life, bathing Yuzu’s room in its usual soft glow. It would be comforting if it weren’t for the apparition standing in front of Yuzu.

“What the fuck,” Yuzu whispers, staring. This can’t be real. He rubs at his face, not believing his eyes. The person looking back at him – well, the person is _him._

It is him, a perfect doppelganger – except not really. The apparition looks like Yuzu, if Yuzu was sharper, bolder, _darker_ somehow. The face is the same, but there is a wildness flickering in those eyes. The mouth that Yuzu sees in the mirror every day is twisted in the smirk Yuzu only wears when he finishes a skate to his satisfaction, but even that looks different, more profoundly aware of the power of the expression. The phantom is wearing what might well be a copy of Yuzu’s own training clothes, but for one detail, a crucial one – the Under Armor top is not Yuzu’s customary black. It is red, a deep wine hue, and it makes Yuzu shudder. He never wears red anymore, even if it is his favorite color, not since that terrible season and the trauma he has suffered when he collided with Han Yan back in 2014.

“Who are you?” Yuzu gasps, shaking his head.

The smirk on the other’s face only grows bigger.

“You,” he says. He spreads his arms, a gesture Yuzu has repeated a thousand times. It’s how he acknowledges the audience prior to a skate, saying _here I am, watch me._ “I am you, Yuzuru,” the phantom repeats.

Yuzu shakes his head once more, hoping that perhaps it will help dispel the insane vision. Maybe he is feverish. He did feel a little ill some days ago; that must be it – he’s sick and hallucinating.

“This is impossible,” he mutters.

“And yet here I am,” the phantom Yuzuru says, smiling. It’s not one of Yuzu’s usual smiles – it’s predatory. The phantom takes a step toward Yuzu, reaching out.

Yuzu flinches when his hand – _his own hand_?! – cups his chin. Not a hallucination, then, because the hand feels firm and real on his face. It irritates Yuzu for some reason.

“What do you want?!” Yuzu snaps. It comes out a little shaky, but confident enough, and Yuzu is proud of himself. He is not letting some crazy mirage unmoor him like this. He has a routine to stick to, his image training and his eight hours of sleep awaiting.

“I’m here to help you,” the phantom says smoothly, clearly unfazed by Yuzu’s outburst.

“I don’t need your help!” Yuzu snorts.

“Oh really?” The phantom lifts his eyebrows. It is strange for Yuzu to see that expression on his own face, because he doesn’t really use it. “How is the quad lutz coming? The quad axel?”

Yuzu frowns. Admittedly, they are _not_ coming, but he is still nursing his injury. “I’m still recovering,” he retorts to the phantom. “I am working on them.”

The phantom tilts his head, clearly amused. “But are you working hard enough?”

Yuzu feels a fresh wave of anger. “I’m doing my best!”

“Do you think the ISU will be satisfied with _your best_?” the phantom asks, air-quoting the last two words mockingly. “You know as well as I do that they will not. They will tear you down any chance they get.”

Yuzu hates him, hates this apparition, this figment of his imagination – or whatever it is. It is as if it had come to taunt him with his own doubts and fears, pulling them straight out of his head.

“It will take better than best, Yuzuru, and you know it. It will take _everything_ ,” the phantom says and it is as if he was pronouncing a sentence, or a prophecy. “Let me help you,” he adds and curls his hand around the back of Yuzu’s neck, pulling him closer. “Let me help you become stronger,” he whispers into the shell of Yuzu’s ear, letting his breath ghost over the sensitive skin there. Yuzu shivers, feeling as if someone had just jolted him with electricity.

Then the phantom’s mouth is on his, claiming it, tongue pushing inside before Yuzu can protest. It feels both incredibly wrong and incredibly good, the way the phantom seems to know exactly how Yuzu likes to be kissed, sucking Yuzu’s bottom lip inside his mouth, letting his teeth graze the plump flesh. Yuzu thinks he should push him away, stop this madness, but when he opens his eyes, the phantom’s dark gaze is there, unrelenting, holding him in place the way Yuzu himself can hold entire arenas under his spell when he’s on the ice.

The phantom’s hands tug at Yuzu’s costume, pulling the crystal dream the rest of the way off his chest. He doesn’t stop there, though, hooking long slender fingers under the fabric of the velvet pants to slide them past Yuzu’s hips, letting the costume crumble down until it’s pooled around Yuzu’s ankles. Yuzu steps out of it, afraid of ruining Satomi-san’s masterpiece, and the phantom hums in approval.

His hands find Yuzu’s nipples, pinching just slightly, and Yuzu can’t help but moan at the perfect blend of pain and pleasure that shoots down his spine, all the way to his groin.

“Shh,” the phantom says. “Quiet. Don’t let mama hear.”

Yuzu’s cheeks burn, and he bites down on his lower lip, embarrassed. He’s not sure if his mother is at home, but if she is, he really doesn’t want her to witness his arousal.

“We will play quietly,” the phantom tells him. He leans down to kiss a trail down Yuzu’s torso, sucking each nipple into his mouth as he goes. The phantom’s hands ghost over Yuzu’s back with the lightest of touches, like butterfly wings against his exposed skin. It is the kind of caress that never fails to drive Yuzu crazy, his nerve endings igniting when the phantom’s fingertips brush across the sensitive spot beneath his right shoulder blade. He bites back a moan. “Yes, good,” the phantom praises. “It feels so good, doesn’t it? I know it does – this is my body, too, after all.”

Yuzu’s breath hitches at the realization. Of course, _of course_ the phantom would know exactly how to touch him: he is _him,_ and Yuzu has detailed knowledge of every inch of his body. It is a necessity, as an athlete, to know how every limb, every muscle will behave under all and any circumstances. Or maybe it is a necessity only for Yuzu. It was his own striving for perfection, for perfect mastery of every aspect of his self, that first made him explore every outcropping and every crevice of his body, plunging his fingers deep inside just to know how it would feel, which angle and movement would make him see stars. He needed to know, because how else could he be ready for actual sex with other people?

It comes back with a vengeance now, this intimate knowledge he has of his own self, when the phantom pushes him back onto the bed. The phantom takes a moment to strip, then crawls on top of Yuzu. He is surprisingly heavy, heavier than Yuzu thought his 56 kilos would feel.

Fingernails travel up the insides of Yuzu’s thighs, leaving tingling pink trails in their wake and forcing Yuzu to mindlessly open his legs wide even if he didn’t want to. The phantom kisses him again, open-mouthed and sloppy, and Yuzu is taken aback by the minty taste of his own mouth as he lets his tongue tangle with the other’s. The phantom’s bottom lip feels satisfyingly plush under his teeth when Yuzu bites down on it, and he briefly wonders if his past lovers had liked that, too, the fullness, the velvety softness of his pink lips.

The phantom breaks the kiss only to lick into Yuzu’s ear, and Yuzu convulses as unexpected pleasure rakes through him. He grabs onto the phantom’s back, feeling the muscles move under his palms, finding the slightest bump of the mole he knows he has there. It feels powerful, that back, alluring with its broadness near the shoulders before it tapers down towards the waist. Yuzu wonders if that is how others see him – powerful, strong – even if he himself looks into the mirror and just sees a body. His body, familiar, and a means to an end, the vehicle to carry him to his aspirations and goals.

Then the phantom pulls down Yuzu’s underwear, and Yuzu whimpers, suddenly feeling bare and vulnerable.

  
“Are you shy?” the phantom asks, incredulous, even as his hand wraps around Yuzu’s length and starts moving with a practiced rhythm.

“I should not be surprised, though. You are at the peak of your career, you need to prove things to everyone – to yourself, too – and you choose that?” he tosses his head in the direction of the small pile of glittering fabric on the floor. “Balletic, soft, beautiful.” Somehow, the adjectives sound pejorative on the phantom’s tongue.

With that, the phantom leans down and takes Yuzu in his mouth. Yuzu keens, watching as his lips – _his_ lips, pink and glistening and familiar – form an obscene O around his own erection. He closes his eyes, both in shame and in pleasure, because the phantom is good, sucking and twisting his hand in sync. He is good, because Yuzu is good at this. He has taken great care to read up on blowjobs and then practiced ardently whenever an opportunity presented itself – it had not been many times, less than a handful, in fact, but Yuzu has always been a fast learner.

The moist heat of the phantom’s mouth disappears. “We need to improve, Yuzuru, we need to show them who the king is. This is _not_ how you show them,” The phantom enunciates, glancing at the discarded costume once again. He then comes up to kiss Yuzu. His mouth tastes slightly salty now, and Yuzu squeezes his eyes shut against the knowledge of just _what_ he is tasting.

The phantom leans over to retrieve the lube Yuzu keeps inside his bedside drawer, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. Slowly, carefully, he starts prepping Yuzu, pushing in a finger, then two when Yuzu relaxes around his fingers. He angles his hand just right, pushing in deep, and Yuzu cries out, unable to keep quiet as his world tils off-axis for a second.

“Ah, you like that. It’s useful to have long fingers sometimes, isn’t it?” the phantom teases as he does it again, and again, scissoring his fingers for good measure, until Yuzu is quivering on the bed and on the verge of insanity.

  
“Stop,” Yuzu begs. “Or don’t – just – give me more, please.”

“This is not how you get what you want, Yuzuru,” the phantom reprimands, but obliges anyway, sliding a third finger in. The fullness is satisfying and Yuzu’s hips move of their own accord, snapping up against the phantom’s hand.

“I’m going to fuck you,” the phantom tells him, announcing it as if there was no question about it. Yuzu is shocked to realize that he wants this, too, despite the obvious wrongness. The firmness in the phantom’s voice, the unshatterable will, convince Yuzu. He meets the phantom’s eyes, a perfect mirror of his own – dark, lust-blown, fanned by eyelashes that almost make it look as if his eyes were outlined in kohl.

“Yes,” he breathes, pliant and slightly embarrassed by it.

The other aligns himself and plunges in, no softness about it now that he knows Yuzu is ready to take him. Yuzu closes his eyes, grateful for the second he is given – to breathe, to embrace the invasion as it sparks both pain and intense pleasure. Then he opens them again, ready for this.

It is bizarre, watching his own body move like that, but Yuzu is transfixed by the ripple of muscles across the phantom’s chest and stomach as he fucks into him, at the way the familiar face distorts with lust, mouth falling open and a small frown forming between the phantom’s brows. Amazed, he reaches up to thread a hand through the phantom’s hair, push the long bangs out of his face.

“This is you, Yuzuru,” the phantom grinds out, sliding out and then slamming himself back in. Yuzu arches off the bed, hips coming to meet the phantom’s thrusts. “This is what you can do, how you can be,” the phantom keeps chanting, his breath coming in short, shallow pants. “You just need to stop hiding, let them see you. Let them see the anger, let them see the fire.”

Yuzu feels like his body is aflame, the way they crash together in such perfect sync that he is afraid that he will be ruined for all other lovers after this.

“But no,” the phantom continues, his voice turning bitter, the rhythm punishing now as he pounds into Yuzu. “No. You choose safe, you choose to continue playing the prince. I know you’re not, you know you’re not, you’re burning up inside, and you hate that they don’t see you, that they don’t _appreciate_ you the way they should.”

Yuzu gasps, delirious. The frustration he has been feeling since Worlds brought to a hot simmer again by the phantom’s words. “I can’t. Do. Anything,“ he manages to say. He is sweating, his arousal building to a white hot glow, but not enough to push him over the edge. The phantom won’t touch him, won’t stroke him, instead choosing to chase his own pleasure inside Yuzu’s body.

“You can prove that you are the greatest, make them see.”

Yuzu squeezes his eyes shut, angry and desperate, his body screaming for release but unable to get it. The phantom falls silent and Yuzu is glad, glad to be free of the onslaught on his mind at least. He lets himself drift, focusing on the sensations, on the heat pooling inside him. And as he frees his mind, it goes where it always does when left unsupervised, to a pair of warm brown eyes and capable hands that Yuzu misses so badly he could cry.

 _Javi_.

He didn’t mean to speak out loud. Maybe he actually _didn’t_ – but the phantom chuckles knowingly.

“Yes, him too. You can have him, too, Yuzuru,” he says, his voice low and tempting. “You know how he looks at you, how he acts around you. And we both know how long you have been craving him. It was never going to be enough, this _friendship_ ,” the phantom spits out the word as if it was a vicious curse and Yuzu detests him, because how dare he. His friendship with Javi is sacred, the most precious thing Yuzu has ever had in his life. “It is not enough and you know it. Especially not after _that night.”_

Yuzu knows immediately which night the phantom is referring to. It is a constant torturous shadow in the back of his mind. Javi’s last night in Toronto, at the end of his last training day at Cricket Club before the Europeans. They had both been slightly tipsy, talking and playing games in Javi’s AirBnB apartment, just like the old times… Then Javi had kissed him, and Yuzu’s world had tilted, because this didn’t happen, shouldn’t happen except in his dreams. He had kissed back, seeking out Javi’s tongue, reeling at how right it felt to have Javi’s arms wrap around him and hold him tight.

Yuzu is not sure how long they had spent like that, kissing wherever they could reach – lips, jaws, necks, collarbones – trying to make up for years and years of holding back.

Then Yuzu’s brain had caught up with his galloping heart.

“We can’t – we shouldn’t – “ he had mumbled into Javi’s mouth, pulling away even if it took every last shred of his will and brought tears into his eyes.

This was _Javi_ , his Javi, his friend, his rock, one of the key pillars Yuzu had built his life upon. He couldn’t risk destroying this, the warm comfort of their friendship, the special bond they shared. He couldn’t give this up and exchange it for a flimsy hope, for the messy uncertainty of… what even? Lust? _Love_? It was the latter for Yuzu, he knows that much, but what was it for Javi?

And so he had pushed Javi away, like so many times before that, for both their sakes, feeling like a martyr foregoing food and water in search of some higher, nobler purpose. They had both cried after that, holding each other as the night faded into and the first rays of dawn came knocking on the windows. After that, Javi had left, never to come back. It had broken Yuzu’s heart, and probably Javi’s, too, but at least their friendship had been preserved.

“He’s there for the taking, you know,” the phantom’s voice tears Yuzu from his reverie, and the pleasure Yuzu has been floating on becomes unbearable once again, his need for release acute. “Javier could be yours, if only you were not such a coward – “

“STOP!” The word rips out of Yuzu’s throat, a savage, living thing. Some wild part of himself takes over and before he knows what he is doing, he is pushing at the phantom’s chest, forcing him out and off himself. “Stop!” he says again as he rolls the phantom onto his back, reversing their positions.

“Yes, my sweet prince, this is how you do it. I can help you – you just need to release me, let me out, unleash me – just like that. Then we will take what is yours, this is how we show them – “

Yuzu covers his mouth, choking off the rest of the words as he clamps his hand over the phantom’s mouth, his anger burning red hot inside him.

“Shut up,” he whispers dangerously, glaring down at the apparition. “You have no right.”

With that, Yuzu seats himself in the phantom’s lap, sinking down onto him. His thighs hold the phantom in an iron grip and Yuzu can see the phantom’s eyes roll back. He releases his mouth and watches as the phantom wheezes for breath, shivering under Yuzu.

He starts moving, then, chasing his own climax, rocking himself up and down. “Touch me,” he barks and the phantom complies, wrapping slender fingers around Yuzu.

His orgasm hits him before he is ready, catching him by surprise, like a wave crashing over his head. Yuzu groans –

\---

He jolts awake with a loud gasp. He’s in his bed, wearing his pajamas. They cling uncomfortably at his groin.

 _A dream_ , Yuzu realizes. _Just a dream._

His heart is still pounding, though, and there’s an echo of the ferocious anger still lingering inside his chest. The sense of control over his own destiny is also right there, powerful, a bow pulled taut and ready to be loosed.

He spends a few minutes just lying there, staring at the ceiling, thinking… Then he reaches for his phone on his bedside table, relieved to find it where it should be. He checks the clock. It’s the middle of the night in Toronto, which means that it is daytime in Tokyo.

He finds Satomi-san’s number and presses the call button.

“It’s Yuzuru,” he says when she picks up. “I need a new costume.”

“Is something wrong with the one I sent, Yuzuru-kun? Has it arrived damaged?” Satomi asks, clearly worried.

“No, no,” Yuzu reassures her. “It’s absolutely perfect. I just – I’ve decided to do a second number.”

Once he has given Satomi the name of the song and described his approximate vision for the program, there is silence for a moment.

“That’s… different. You sure know how to surprise,” Satomi says eventually, but Yuzu can hear the pleased smile in her voice. Satomi loves a challenge.

He laughs. “I’m just getting started.”


End file.
